Aubry by CL Rowell

His name is Jonathon Grey.
He’s the son of my father’s worst enemy. We met five and a half years ago on the night of my fifteenth birthday party. He crashed the event and we danced the evening away. It was sooo romantic. When Daddy chased him off he left with my heart.
It was years before I finally saw him again and he treated me like crap, shattering my heart—I hate him…and now he owns me for an entire year.
An enemies to lovers second chance love story that will make you laugh and might even make you cry.

Targeted Age Group:: 17-65Heat/Violence Level: Heat Level 4 – R Rated

What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I write what my characters share with me. The first eight books in this series came to me one after the other in a matter of minutes. This one – Aubry – was the first and loudest so I made it my first one. As fast as I made a Scrivener outline for one, another one came to me. And another. And another. I've finished the first three and am currently working on number four. Each character is so unique and so interesting I knew I wanted to put everything else on the back burner and write these – and I haven't come up for air yet.

How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
My characters come to me first as a voice whispering their story. As they speak, I get glimpses of what they look like, their personality, their style. Aubry was very loud, very opinionated but also really sweet. I loved writing her story.

Book Sample
“I’m sorry, your card was declined.”
“Declined?” I blink at her, feeling like I missed something. She couldn’t be talking to me, could she? “That isn’t possible. This is an American Express Centurion card—it has no limit. Run it again.”
“I ran it through five times at the request of my manager—” Her face is red, as if she’s embarrassed for me—me, Aubry Von Leesh-Addams, the only grandchild of Tess and Nic Von Leesh, and Avery and Monique Addams, and one of the ten richest women in the entire state—or I will be once I reach my next birthday and turn twenty-one, “it was declined all five times.”
“What does that mean?” I blink rapidly, frantically trying to keep the tears at bay as a young lady of my stature doesn’t cry in public—but my card can’t be declined. It just can’t!
“It means I need either a working card or cash, or I’ll have to put all of this back.”
“Seriously?” I dig my phone out of my purse and tap my dad’s name before putting it to my ear. It goes straight to voicemail. Incredulous, I tap it again, harder. The third time it goes to voicemail, I reluctantly leave a message, “Daddy, call me back. It’s important.”
“I’ll just put it on my card,” Bella, my best friend since grade school, offers, “I don’t mind. You’ve done it for me plenty of times in the past.”
My shoulders sag. “You shouldn’t have to. I don’t know what’s going on—but I guarantee you I’m gonna find out. This is a catastrophe.”
“What’s going on, here?”
I’d know that voice anywhere. My heart sinks as I look up into the arctic blue eyes of Jonathon Grey and try not to notice the sheer perfection that is the son of my father’s worst enemy. Turning my back on him with a graceful twirl, I lift my chin. “It’s not your concern. Move along.”
“Aubry!” Bella’s full pink lips part on a scandalized gasp as her meticulous black brows meet in a vee over her perfect cosmetically enhanced button nose, “It isn’t like you to be rude!”
My feelings hurt over being called rude, I hiss, “Do you have any idea who that is?”
“No,” her voice is a silky purr. She extends a flawlessly manicured hand in his direction, lowering a thick fringe of coal black lashes over aquamarine tinted contacts in a coquettish manner and giggles, adding, “but I’d sure like to. Hello, handsome…my friend appears to have misplaced her manners. I’m Annabella Sweeney, but my friends call me Bella. And who might you be?”
Misplaced my manners? My spine snaps ruler straight and I grind my teeth in a way that will probably get me in deep trouble with my dentist on my next visit. I open my mouth to tell her off but before I can get a single word out, he’s bowing over her hand like she’s the queen of a small country. As if.